Lucius had been mesmerized. Even in the sea of suitors who twirled her across the floor, no one could touch the aura she exuded.
She was radiant, ethereal, every inch a treasure he longed to claim.
But he couldn't.
He was a phantom, a forgotten remnant of a world she did not yet know.
Still, his obsession had grown.
As weeks turned into months, Jean began to sense his presence.
Her initial curiosity became a quiet longing as she pieced together the fragments of his existence—whispers in the corridors, a shadow in her periphery, the weight of his gaze when no one else was looking.
She wanted to find him. To her, he was no monster but a mystery to unravel, a treasure hidden just beyond reach.
Lucius had been elated. For the first time in centuries, someone saw him, wanted him. But their moments together were fleeting—half-spoken words in the dead of night, a brush of cold air against her skin as he lingered near.